deer-tracks

stealing bread.

2012-02-06T10:39:00.000-08:00

I was finally blessed with a boss who is forcing me to start chipping away at my vacation time. Seattle was a beautiful city and i envy how green the state is. There's a little part of me that wishes I could live there in the land of artisan coffee and rain. Then there's the other part of me that got knocked down by the damp weather and spent the next five days with acute bronchitis. I got to visit with a friend who moved there almost two years ago, fulfilling one of my resolutions to visit friends more often. She was a perfect guide and it was great to laugh with her again. Laughter might be one of my favorite past times with old friends. For as serious as I feel most of the time, laughing out loud with a dear friend kind of strips all that away.

work has been busy per usual. tons of pressure, but that's par for the course.
we may have narrowed down paint samples for the master bedroom, which feels far more exciting than it ought to. i've tried to stop referencing all the ways i've slowly transformed into your mom because it's been happening at such frequent intervals. at this point, it's a given.

we'll skip the before.

2012-01-23T08:39:00.000-08:00

we've lived in our house for nearly two years, and we have spent so much time trying to figure how much and in what ways we should make changes. the unfortunate thing about being first time home buyers, we were pretty blind to "quick fixes" the realtor made to flip the house. these quick fixes have left us with cupboards falling off hinges, paint peeling off the bathtub, tile cracking on tile. it's a bit of a forehead slap in hindsight. but there's no real structural damage so that's the bright side.

when we moved in, we made major necessary upgrades like replacing the roof, windows and some serious electrical and plumbing work. but other than building greg's studio, we haven't touched a thing. partly because we kept changing our minds about whether we should expand the master bath or not. it really comes down to how much do we want to invest and how long do we see ourselves living here? the worse case scenario is the rest of our lives. the ideal scenario is 5-7 years.

that being said, these rooms are not going to fix themselves and it's time to make some improvements. my opinion is we should make upgrades that suit our tastes without making structural changes to the existing room.

this bathroom makeover from design sponge pretty much summed up what we'd like to do in both of our upstairs bathrooms.
although imagine everything on a much smaller scale which i think will actually open the room up a bit more. even though my argument against expanding the room was: we only use this room for three things TOPS. how much space does one actually need in a bathroom?

i'm not sure how i feel about the neutral tones of beige on beige, but our main appeal is the warm wood tones of the shower floor and cabinet fixtures.

the next step is finding a contractor who can help us make some version of this happen. which is a weird thought for me to wrap my head around. me + contractor... oy vey...

here's hoping there's progress made before the year's end.

watched pot.

2011-12-28T12:07:00.000-08:00

my inspiration has terrible timing.
the tighter my schedule, the more i long to daydream.
conversely when i have ample time to waste, i never know where to begin.

i woke up with mojave curled up at my feet.
brewed the perfect cup of french press coffee.
had terrific slice of avocado hummus toast.
talked to my brother and one of my best friends.
but i feel surrounded by a hundred things out of place and nary an emotion to be found.
except for the sweet relief of not being at work.

original hipsters

2011-12-27T09:24:00.000-08:00

http://www.newyorker.com/reporting/2012/01/02/120102fa_fact_talbot?currentPage=all

i don't really care what anyone thinks, Portlandia is a gem. It makes my heart so happy that Carrie Brownstein has branched out from music to improv. She's been an inspiration over the years and I think it's quite rare that we can see even more of her in a different light because of her collaboration with Fred Armisen.

this article also made my tired, sleepy morning. chock full of quotes from corin tucker, mary timony, miranda july. merry christmas to all!

girl crush.

2011-12-13T09:05:00.000-08:00

to disappear takes so much time.

2011-12-12T12:28:00.000-08:00

the little snotty cat and i have been cuddling and chasing each other up and down the stairs since the rain woke me up this morning. my life has been going through a decompression of sort as i am finally starting to understand how to not work 11 hours a day. this year has forced me to itemize meticulous to do lists and learn how to be direct and forthright in communication in a major way... which was no easy feat.

greg got a hold of Siamese Dream remastered and has been playing early smashing pumpkins non stop at night and i love it! we totally bond over our early 90's teenage angst. i like to imagine him brooding in his teen years to the same record as i did for hours alone in the retreat of our locked bedroom doors, dying our hair black, crying over journal pages, lashing out at our parents in overly dramatic ways, going to the same arena rock shows, playing guitar till our fingers bled and calloused with pride.

i'm mesmerized by how i am able to romanticize my youth in hindsight, because living through it hurt like hell. the awkwardness and longing; longing to belong, to fit in and simultaneously stand apart and be an individual. it all seems so natural to me now, the process of of adolescence followed by the rush of hormones and emotions. the pain was very real, but i think the fatal flaw of my adolescence was not working out those painful emotions earlier in life. i held onto those wounds so tightly, as though they defined me and nobody else could possibly understand. it's strange how music alternately soothed and fueled me then.

but today i'm spending a rainy day sipping on peppermint tea, blasting Pisces Iscariot. i'm glad 14 year old me couldn't have predicted finding this kind of contentment; makes the surprise ending all the more sweet.

if at first you paint your w/c an unfortunate shade of rasta gold....

2011-11-28T11:20:00.000-08:00

Back in September, I finally decided that our bathrooms must be painted a delicious shade of lemon yellow. I perused and contemplated several shades of yellow and opted for what i considered the lightest shade of the bunch. With a burst of determination, i taped off all the trim and corners and set about painting our w/c's the WORST SHADE OF YELLOW IMAGINABLE. I was distraught, my color palette is rarely off. As the daughter of an artist and skilled amateur house painter, I felt ashamed. Back to the conglomerate hardware store I went and decided to add almost 75% more white to my original selection. I was infinitely more pleased with the outcome, but there were a few lessons I learned the hard way:

Our house gets little to no direct sunlight and the windows only allow for indirect light. This means every shade will appear darker than if applied in a room prone to abundant sun.

The most poignant lesson was not even the original mistake in color, but how long i let myself live with my subpar paint job. Like a true passive-aggressive, I used/ passed by the rooms daily letting my distaste gnaw at my sensibilities. I kept hoping a few things would happen: a. it would go away on its own, b. greg would read my mind and fix it for me, c. i would make time to correct the flaw, but not today.

Yesterday was the day I woke up with a sense of purpose, crystal clear: I would finish the damage done by my reggae nightmare. I spent the afternoon taping, retaping and painting over. Compared to how much I hated looking at it all these months, I was able to finish in less than two hours. Now when I walk by, I can feel proud of a job well done and move on to obsessing over other flaws like the unfortunate mirrors, the cracking tile and paint chipped cabinetry. The good news is we have a plan to fix/replace these other things. The downside is, it all takes time because nothing goes away on its own.

mantra.

2011-10-28T10:42:00.000-07:00

i'm not entirely certain what came over me.
perhaps it was the slight autumn chill, or the deep cranberry of my cardigan.
perhaps it's because i've stopped paying attention to bands that have referenced my sound or maybe i'm just ready to reclaim this time for myself.

there isn't anything particularly transcendent about my guitar playing, nor very inspired about my writing; i have enough objectivity to realize this. however there is something in this solitary act that i've committed for so many years, how frustration and noise marry together and i still stumble upon those dissonant chords. it has become a part of who i am and it is time to stop ignoring it as if it were a phantom limb.

i've associated playing music with my careless, reckless youth by association when really, it's another form of meditation for me. it seems fitting that autumn is a season to reap one's harvest and celebrate abundance. for me, it means setting aside all the work that i do to spend on my noisy meditations.

the river goes two ways.

2011-09-27T10:45:00.000-07:00

the weather changed. even while the sun is shining there is a snap in the southern california air causing my plants to bloom in gratitude of the coolness. i enjoy observing how seasons change and the way it impacts the way people behave. already, i can feel myself longing to hibernate in bed longer than i actually able to, making mental lists of ayurvedic appropriate foods to eat in autumn, and daydreaming in the quiet morning. does cool air sound quieter? i feel like it does.

people keep kindly urging me to write again and i am working in these stolen quiet hours on getting in that head space again. my daydreams wander from isolated mountain retreats, closeness, rattling off to do lists, and places i'd like to see. i wonder how to articulate happiness now that i've given up all my old ghosts. the hardest part is giving myself permission to stop thinking about what needs to get done long enough to feel inspired.

dissonance is good though; it's part of the process. despite all his depravity, so was phil spector.

wall of sound.

2011-09-26T21:31:00.000-07:00

there was a wave of confusion, followed by a wall of sound. sometimes when i stop to think about it, i feel quite torn between who i was and how i am. something about this photo of the Ronettes reminds me how my life once revolved around music and swagger; the big hair, short skirts, tall boots and defiance. but of course, i'm too old to be defiant, and i'm certainly too old to be crying about how i used to be defiant. but i digress... this song makes me swoon.

in no particular order.

2011-09-21T09:53:00.000-07:00

+ neon indian era extrana
i have listened to this album exclusively on repeat the first four tracks are synth pop shoe gaze heaven.
longing, wistful, despondent and cheeky.

+ reviving my maidenhair ferns after overexposing them to midday sun. lesson learned the hard way.

+ our bedroom is practically furnished and complete. no longer a post collegiate hodgepodge of hand me downs, ikea impulse buys and thrift store finds. i still don't feel like blogging pictures, cause it feels too much like show and tell. my friends will just have to come over for dinner or brunch sometime.

- our days of summer are numbered, and so are my daily swims. i suppose i can do laps at the gym, but it's not the same.

+ going to the gym. my kardashian is way out of control but i'm working things out with the elliptical. i mean i get more cardio at work than the average person, but i also intake more carbs at work than any other time of day: bagels, lunch, cliff bar at snack. if you're like me and you've put off working out for years, but constantly contemplated the benefits... i highly suggest there is no time like the present.

the size of montana.

2011-09-13T11:38:00.000-07:00

the thing of it is, when i was deep in the thick of songwriting and poetry i spent nearly every waking moment in caught up in emotional turmoil. i cried over dogeared pages of the same sylvia plath short stories. i made ranting notes in the indentations of Carl Jung essays. i scrawled lyrics and verse on the back panels of paper backs and paper bags. i spent my working hours longing to run away to places no one would find me, where i felt my heart would feel free,

i think it's about time to start actually going to those places. i mean what's the point of working so hard, if i'm not going to take time to see the world from time to time?

it's so much darker when a light goes out.

2011-09-07T10:19:00.000-07:00

a year ago today i held my grandmother as she breathed her last breath. it was one of the saddest things i've ever felt, but now in retrospect i take comfort in remembering her life and knowing she is at rest.
i've always been haunted and intrigued by my family history as both of my grandmothers were very complicated women with a lot of sadness in their hearts. what set yiayia apart was that she overcame her personal tragedies and lived for what she loved as best she could.

i have simple, selfish regrets about her passing like i wish i had been more mature during my twenties so i might have really taken the time to know her on the level i feel i understand her now. but ultimately, i know that our love was strong and the ways i remember her seem perfect and right.

verdant gaze.

2011-08-10T11:14:00.000-07:00

i've finally resolved to paint our bathrooms at some point before summer's end. greg says he has no color preference, and i'm just tired of the bleh beige the realtor painted our home before we bought it.
i'm not sure what i was waiting for. perhaps i just needed to let the space speak to me before i made any moves. now, i hear the space telling me we need some color up in here STAT!

i'm not terribly in love with either bathrooms but the color palette works for me. i love a crisp aqua with a snap of white trim and verdant greens and sunny yellows for contrast. eventually we'll remove the marble, cabinetry and horrendous faux shower mold for actual tile but we've got to take baby steps for our sanity and to allow ourselves to make decisions we agree upon. do i paint each bathroom a different color? or can i do two the same with one a bit different?

we've spent the last year searching and acquiring furniture, and holding off on painting everything for fear of clashing colors. by september all of our basic furniture needs will be complete with the exception of benches to match our new dining table (a reclaimed wood and steel monolith that will hopefully inspire future dinner parties)

it's time now to take on a monthly project to eliminate feeling overwhelmed by all the little things that i pretend not to be bugged by. i know there's no need to rush, but maybe it's time to put a little shoulder into it so i can say: wow girl, you're such a grown up, taking care of your house and stuff.

i can't control myself.

2011-08-09T20:59:00.000-07:00

i really would like to challenge myself to a week of solely eating whole foods: whole grains, whole proteins, fresh veggies.

that shouldn't be so hard to do, right?

that's really the only thing on my mind. that and how good it felt to come home and swim after work.

swimming, taco tuesday, mojave the cat, vegan truffles, and my handsome boy... those are the things that keep me from feeling like brian in his bathrobe in the vitamin aisle of the grocery store every day.

but i do love brian wilson in his bathrobe. <3

i'll not contain you.

2011-08-07T21:01:00.000-07:00

"Life changes in the instant. The ordinary instant."
- joan didion, the year of magical thinking

it's been quiet and perfect. i've been reading up on my joan. she's astounding, really. i wish i had more time, but then again that's just how it goes.

i hope i wake up for yoga tomorrow, there's so much i need to sweat out.

your mom.

2011-08-03T10:26:00.000-07:00

last night i was driving through the hills near my home. not exactly on the way home but nearby no less. it was my second night doing so; moving along winding turns in the relative dark. it occurred to me that it if i were a younger person it would have been the perfect long beach night to spend cycling through the streets in search of an adventure or at least a high five and good music. it occurred to me there were no physical barriers preventing me from pursuing the perfect night and in my next thought followed all the practical reasons informing why i don't do things like that anymore.

basically, mentally and physically i have turned into your mom. i wake up at 530am without an alarm and fall asleep like clockwork at 1030pm. i don't drink soda or juice, only water and coffee, sometimes tea. i know the gamut of homeopathic remedies for the common cold, flu, bronchitis, stomach ailments in addition to diagnosing said ailments. on any given day i can plan and execute any number of moderately healthy vegetarian meals that are a well rounded serving of vegetable, protein and fiber. i buy healthy snacks, but know that a bag of corn chips is the preferred impulse snack of choice. stocking up on essentials like toilet paper, paper towels, cleaning supplies, laundry detergent is my undesignated responsibility. when people younger than myself allude to activities that involve drinking and fun i say things like: be safe, hydrate! instead of having time for personal pursuits, my priorities involve housework, errands and getting some cardio a few times a week. who has time for song writing when there are dishes in the sink, and laundry to be folded?

keep in mind, being your mom isn't so bad. if i didn't enjoy it to an extent, i would hope i would have the sense to do something else. however, because i am physically possessed by this mysterious childless mom gene i cannot even imagine doing what "something else" might entail. i try to push myself out of these physical confines to do things i think are pertinent to my existence: writing poetry/songs, enjoying a nice pilsner, reading/failing at reading but i am physically limited to making good decisions, bossing other people around(simply because i know better), and nurturing.

now go clean your room. and call your mother.

sweepstakes prize.

2011-07-19T09:41:00.000-07:00

i've been having recurring dreams as of lately.
in my dreams i am in a barn like bar perched on top of a hill, located in a city that resembles los angeles in a location that vaguely reminds me of laurel canyon. in the dream, i am in the bar mid conversation with various people who remind me of people i may or may not know; most notably Jason Bateman has been showing up in these dreams. which i consider a win-win situation.

except that i look my right and someone in the room, announces, "it's coming. can you feel it?"
to which i respond by looking to my left and at the bar in front of me, scanning the room for a sign of what is about to happen. the room starts shifting, shaking and has the feeling that it is going to tilt down the hillside full force. the first night this happened was the most violent of the dreams. now, it's as though i've come to expect the room to start shifting, holding on for dear life and waiting for the end to come.
i'm never sure if the end is the room giving way or for the tremor to stop.

this probably ties in to all the changes that are happening in waking life: stress, anticipation, etc...
in some ways i feel very lucky, and in other ways i know that i will have to keep focusing 95% of my waking life attention for all the reasons that have nothing to do with luck in the hope that, someday, maybe i'll get to take time to run off to europe with greg, consider starting a family, or reach a place of absolute financial freedom.

i don't know, i suppose i need a few more nights of good sleep, some hot yoga, plenty of omega rich foods to work this subconscious anxiety out.

thumbs up for rock and roll.

2011-07-14T10:20:00.000-07:00

( directions: play both videos at once for maximum empowerment )

greg's out of town and things are changing faster than i originally expected, so i'm relying on this kid for moral support. it's weird i know, but trust me it's working.

i keep intending to post about visualizing and attaining goals, but then i immediately backspace and delete. instinctively i want people to find their true happiness, and then five seconds later i feel like an asshole for ever thinking i know the first thing about the well being of others.

presupposing i know nothing about anything, i do want you to feel happy of yourself. and when in doubt "just keep practicing, you will get the hang of it i know it!"

i relish in the fact that my life has taken unexpected terms. i truly believe that hard work and dedication do pay off (it doesn't always feel that way, but the overall effect is positive)

thumbs up everybody!

the aching expanse of space.

2011-07-13T10:48:00.000-07:00

i waited decades years weeks days minutes seconds for the time i would never be alone again only to find myself rolling across the lonely california king mattress with relish uninterrupted by the sounds of you sleeping, turning, waking, moving, leaving. i felt a sigh of relief as i unabashedly applied lotions to my hands and feet before bed. i flail unconsciously at the thought of you gone and in the same breath, turn the channel to watch something that would make you squeal with distaste. i'm going to wear the shorts you think are too short and make the bed automatically.

this is not a permament vacation.

but i feel myself trying to relearn what i did with myself before we were us.
i never was myself without you in this house, we always lived here together. and i realize that this part of my psyche that questions my ability to be alone is pulled taught, straining to maintain balance.

i think about the time before us, the time before the interwebs when i truly inhabited my living space with particular pictures on the wall that i could stare at for hours trying to get lost in; with piles of papers and notebooks documenting every painful piece of prose; with stacks of albums on steady rotation to soundtrack every movement; juvenile, messy and tawdry tokens stashed in clandestine corners.

now those notebooks are stowed away, so as to not make the mistake of leaving a painful thought exposed for each other to glimpse.

those records have long since been stored in boxes and cataloged in neat little lists of mp3 files piled within this computer, left largely unseen.

and i haven't hung any pictures for fear you'll walk in the room and wonder why our shared space is covered in field mice, David Hamilton girls and Maxfield Parrish prints which is not the modern rustic aesthetic we agreed upon.

and those tawdry tokens are few and far between. no more cigarettes and smoke stashed in the underwear drawer. no more bottles in the closet. no more photobooth pictures taped to the wall.

this is not a complaint. merely what was and what is. i was once a sad, lonely girl who took comfort in my privacy and particular ways of coping, creating and railing in spite of the world until the early hours of the morning. now we are us and we are responsible, healthy, creative people. we are fixated on our respective jobs, inhabiting our home our happiness together. we talk about the future and plan renovations. we encourage each other to not be so slobby and warn each other which varieties of houseplants are potentially toxic to our cat. we go to bed before ten and we search for new healthy vegetarian recipes to cook for dinner.

this happened slowly and then all at once. i was never myself without you.

you're gonna miss me.

2011-07-12T10:29:00.000-07:00

i wish baby's annual business/camping trip didn't coincide with stressful retail work weeks.

expect several Roky Erikson inspired solo dance parties.

i'll see you this summer and forget you when i go back to school.

2011-07-07T20:51:00.000-07:00

from thechiclife.com

the first rule i have about my job is i do not blog about my job.
the 2nd rule about my job is i do not complain about my job on blogs.

that being said going into work on one's days off during the most beautiful hot summer days breaks my heart a little... just a little. to beat the funk, i got inspired by some anti inflammatory food ideas on the aforementioned blog like southwestern quinoa cold salad for dinner and blueberries/blackberries drizzled with agave nectar for dessert, washed down with copious glasses of water and coconut water. suddenly i'm as cool as if i'd slept in, pruned in the garden and read by the pool all day.

so i'm taking these last few moments before bed to soak up some beach boys, kick back with my berries and my boys. meanwhile plotting out the most self indulgent plan for my next day off: make it to yoga, make time in the garden, make time for a swim, make time for love and always look on the bright side of life. (and hydrate!)

we are all alone here and we are dead.

2011-07-05T09:58:00.000-07:00

we've been in the house nearly one year.
in the meantime we've managed to almost mostly furnish each room, opting for minimalism in the way of decor. we've learned about maintaining the yard and pool through trial and error. and mojave the kitty is happy, healthy and growing into a fine feline beast.

it's a bit tricky being one of the first of my friends to domesticate. and it must tedious listening to us talk about our hunt for specific pieces of decor, which is why i've ceased to blog about it as often.

i've grown accustomed to narrowing the world down to specific friends and spending the rest of my free time alone. loneliness feels more and more like a luxury these days. particularly, when it's warm and sunny and i can stretch out by the pool getting lost in a novel with a cool glass of water and a bowl of berries. is that odd to enjoy? i feel like i have no sense of these things anymore.

stay healthy. stay rested. enjoy life.

in terms of reading material, i've been focusing on actually reading through all the books i've given up on over the years. currently, i'm making my way through tropic of cancer which i've always a had a terrible time with. now that i've committed to finishing it in spite of those first dense and vulgar pages it's unfolded into quite a lascivious read and i find myself engrossed in Miller's life as a starving artist in Paris. it is the kind of book which would have fueled my own younger self into a hunger for passionate encounters, but now i read it more as a spectator which would probably piss Miller off. in which case i would calm him down by assuring Henry that i only read it when i am half naked and totally drenched in sunshine.

i imagine that would be a fair consolation for the cancer of time eating us away.

2011-05-13T10:48:00.000-07:00

http://deertracksinthefallensnow.tumblr.com

i'm searching to find the balance between sharing thoughts and inspiration here on the internets.
the reality is i don't have time to maintain a blog to the standards i want to hold myself to.
i think my thoughts are too insular and sporadic to go forward here, for now.

if you're my friend and you're down with the internets, then i hope tumblr can be a place we can exchange music, photos and ideas.

xoxo

things you will learn when you start to let go.

2011-04-26T09:32:00.000-07:00

it's not always easy, striving to be the best version of yourself you can possibly be: alternately disappointing and surprising yourself and strangers. in yoga the instructor often urges you to relax and smile through the painfulness of poses, which is meant to indicate true mastery. grimacing and squinting while holding eagle poses is like crying while winning a race; there is no sweetness or victory to be savored.

i had one of those days yesterday where i felt so completely, massively overwhelmed by a neverending to-do list and all of the obstacles that have stumbled my way over the course of the last week. in the midst of it all, i caught myself projecting my own frustration outward on people whom i respect and value. gone was the sweetness, gone was the smile of victory. all my hard work was replaced by a big fat negative space.

i resolved myself to apologize for my behavior to the person on the other end of my frustration and reconciled to do a better job of showing people i value the respect they deserve. i'm quite confident had i not owned up to the negative manifestation of my own stress that i would eventually have burned a sweet and respectable bridge with someone who has never done anything but try their best.

i left work feeling refreshed and confident i had done the right thing, no matter how difficult it may feel to admit wrong. and when i fell asleep, i slept through the night unplagued by worry and insidious guilt(which can often lead to many sleepless nights). and so i learned how smiling through a challenge can only make you stronger and more satisfied with the outcome.

copper wings.

2011-04-17T21:34:00.001-07:00

i didn't watch the sun rise.
we were too busy tossing and turning and willing ourselves to sleep.
somewhere in the last few months i lost my cat, my ipod, my desire to self destruct.
we were too busy walking the streets proving his love for me, my love for him, our simultaneous love for living.

there was no nonsense. no miracles. no breath of autumn chill to relieve the terrific heat of the early morning and i slipped into the skin of woman with a particular view of the world and a particular plan of how i might fit into all of this or how it should all fit around me.

idiosyncratic and idiotic, i summoned upon something similar to courage, though lacking distinction. in the absence of expression, we grew increasingly frustrated at how every word and action became so goddamn literal. gone were the metaphors and allegories that held our lives so vaguely tragic and thrilling like the last flutters of one butterfly before the pins slide through.

twitterpated.

2011-04-12T09:58:00.000-07:00

we recently discovered a duck couple who come to our yard every morning and night and graze on fallen acorns and whatever else they must find worth feeding on. when i mentioned they must be coupling, and they might be the same couple, greg thought i was being silly.

though when we walked up on them for the fourth or fifth time, he conceded my theory might not be far off.

yesterday on our walk along the river, we spotted a mallard-hen couple and another and another and so on and so forth... the ducks were nearly completely coupled off in pairs. neither of us had ever seen anything like it. upon reading on the subject, i learned that mallards often stay with the female to protect the eggs until they hatch, often he'll even attempt to protect the eggs from the female(unnecessarily).

i guess this struck me, because i never expected to find myself in a loving, long term relationship. i never expected to find someone to who wanted to love me, protect me, cook with me, travel with me, inspire me, laugh with me, and make music with me. the living is so good together, i couldn't imagine our lives any other way. i hope everyone finds their mallard or hen or whatever they were hoping to find along the way.

this is not a fashion blog.

2011-04-07T20:12:00.000-07:00

....but i really love this canyon skirt from madewell.

sad sap.

2011-04-06T11:46:00.000-07:00

this single from pains of being pure at heart totally conjures up memories from my childhood friendships. i don't really have any pictures from our cafe bleu days, which this song reminds me of most. i figured the early days of katie would be the next best thing. i was so out of my tree back then that i wore those cat ears practically everywhere that spring.

i loved my first strat so much, too. it had stickers, which is kind of lame now, but i thought the stickers brought me luck(and complimented the rosewood fret board well). i was constantly re-saudering the input jack because it either had a faulty connection or because i abused my strat so badly back then when we played. it's funny to think that i played for hours practically everyday. i mean, that strat was pretty much my closest friend during my college years. and when mary and i started playing together, it was a noisy, harmonious union.

joshua trees, hot springs and desert blooms.

2011-04-05T10:17:00.000-07:00

we had such a lovely weekend exploring and rejuvenating in the desert, that it feels strange to recount the weekend out loud. the desert during these first weeks of spring was a perfect balance of dry heat and vibrant blooms. i felt a sense of joy particularly early in the morning, hiking through the foothills with my love before the sun was high in the sky.

Fleet Foxes - Grown Ocean from Fleet Foxes on Vimeo.

when communication goes retrograde.

2011-03-28T20:36:00.000-07:00

the honeymoon is wearing off and the supermoon from last week is in full effect. in cases like these when people are strething me out with nonsense and bad energy, i fight back by chilling the heck out.

and i know i'm on the right path because all of the pieces of my massive quest to uplift just sort of assembled into place.

like, i found this chilled out webvideo from yoga today about ayurvedic self care on rawjudita, which led me to take a few of the free classes they offer online. relaxing, convenient and a simple way to stop being lazy about daily practice.

just reading judita's blog about her journey through vegan, raw and holistic healing reminds me to incorporate more raw produce and eliminate even more processed food than before. i am neither practicing raw, nor vegan but i like to use habits from both.

i totally snacked on some medjool dates and peppermint tea for dessert. in a few minutes i'm going to take a yoga video class and a hot bath before bed. so there miscommunicators, in your face.

trial and error.

2011-03-27T11:16:00.000-07:00

i have a very close friend who has recently learned she must adhere to a gluten free diet for health reasons. to protect her identity, let's call this very close friend of mine "mom".
in a very short time, "mom" has managed to erradicate all glutens from her diet, she has also managed-much to my chagrin- to purchase every box and package labeled gluten free.

i love "mom" and i have suggested and encouraged her numerous times to simply get rid of the processed anything and focus on maximizing her intake of fresh fruits and veggies along with whatever gluten-free grain and lean protein she prefers. i've suggested juicing (she has an unused juicer) i've suggested fiber rich salads and incorporating kale, i've demanded she substitute diet soda for water only, but it's all fallen on slightly deaf ears because as my "close friends" get older, they become cemented in their ways.

today is the day when i lure "mom" into my anti-gluten free trap with the promise of lunch and playing with our kitty, mojave. not that i have an elaborate raw, vegan demonstration planned, because the point is to encourage her to make realistic changes.

here's my evil plot to destroy her bad habits:

kale chips
sauteed zucchini
grilled tilapia soft tacos w/ fresh black beans, coleslaw, cilantro, avocado, tomato and vegenaise chili sauce
and water (okay, it's sparkling pellegrino)

my hope is to show them that they can still enjoy dishes they've grown accustomed to with some very minor fresh choices. i get such a kick grocery shopping primarily in the produce section, piling my basket high with fresh, colorful veggies... it's baffling that anyone who had the means would deprive themselves the pleasure.

on a tangent, i really am trying to open myself to a more, raw vegan lifestyle. i've managed to eliminate meat again for lent, and hopefully from now on. there are some truly inspirational raw foodists and vegans in my life that i admire, but i have to also be honest with myself and the changes i am willing to dedicate myself to. for instance, i really love kale but i also really love kale with poached eggs... not really something i'm ready to compromise. anyways, my relationship to food and eating responsibly is an ongoing process of education and trial. i hope that doesn't sound wishy-washy.

your obsession with youth is pissing me off.

2011-03-26T20:45:00.000-07:00

deep down in the dark rooms of our souls.

2011-03-25T10:09:00.000-07:00

can the compulsion to create coexist with a desire for balance and routine?

Sub-question: is it in fact unfair to criticize a formerly great artist for his latter day sins, or is it better to burn out or fade away?

2011-03-20T22:04:00.000-07:00

last night i drove home through a rainstorm that was giving me heart palpitations, but suddenly stevie came on and the bass kicked in, the horn section got started and by the time i knew what was happening i was feeling pretty damn good about it all.

then i remembered the quote from high fidelity questioning whether it is better to burn out or fade away and really, i think there's way too much creedence put on this idea of burning and fading. if the best you ever did was caught on analog in the sixties seventies and people still think it's the jam, and now you live a fabulous rich life out of the public eye, well i'd say that was pretty damn amazing.

youth tends to be asymptomatic to glorifying archetypes of greatness, rather than establishing and asserting one's own special brand of greatness. personally, age and maturity have led me to realize that some of my most secret idiosyncrasies are in fact what make me truly unique. and when considering all of my failures which have led me to where and who i am today, they don't feel like failures at all: i tried something and found it wasn't all it was cracked up to be.
so now i'm going to sip my coffee, sautee some kale, poach a few eggs and enjoy this morning all to myself and i might bump a little stevie wonder just to ensure the pleasure of it all!

perfecting our cat naps.

2011-03-16T21:40:00.000-07:00

we celebrated daylight saving with a cat nap and a hike along the river. mojave celebrated bylooking handsome and charming.

put a little shoulder into it.

2011-03-15T09:52:00.000-07:00

the recent horrifying events in Japan have set my home life on a bittersweet tangent. i feel like a heel for simple indulgences when there are so many lives that are irrevocably washed away and living through the threat of exposure to massive levels of nuclear radiation. on the other hand, i feel like the only way to truly revere lives lost is to push myself to live each day more fully, with a pure heart and good intentions.

in the yard, i'm trying to convert the barren patches into fertile drought resistant planters and resuscitate my container plants that have either been affected by the winter months or aching to be transplanted into the ground where their roots can spread out at last. i'm trying to learn how to interpret my plants' needs: too much direct sun, not enough, etc... and if you didn't already think i was a little cuckoo, i swear i saw my maidenhair fern smiling in the breeze this morning, grateful for no longer being held captive as a houseplant.

on a side note, we finally settled on a duvet cover from Room and Board, a euro linen that looks like a burlap sack. in the end, texture beat out pattern. we agreed immediately, which is always a good sign in our quest to align our tastes and make our home more comfortably ours.

so in addition to contributing to tsunami relief efforts in Japan, put a little extra love into each day: give life and good energy, eat a little more cruelty free, plant something in the earth, smile a little bit more, adopt a pet, make some love... put a little shoulder into it for goodness sake! the only way to fight devastation is to retaliate with an abundance of life.

"i care if i do something that's special"

2011-03-01T09:07:00.000-08:00

reposted from imboycrazy

it's like she's in mind.

slumberland (my bed not the record label)

2011-02-28T09:54:00.000-08:00

the hunt for the perfect duvet cover has been all consuming. how hard is it to find bed linens that are modern and interesting but not over the top and overtly busy?

jonathan adler's current ouvre feels simultaneously busy and boring.

kelly wearstler's are a bit safe and blah, though i'm sure they feel amazing.

marimekko hasa bit more fun with their line, but i just cannot get into line drawing illustrations as housewares. i love mike mills graphics, but it just feels like illustrations of trees and city streets on my bedfeel like i have to hide behind a literal statement. does that make sense? am i consequently hiding myself behind not making a literal statement?

oy vey, these aren't real problems but let's go on, shall we?

i was really surprised to find a set i liked at CB2

The contrast of colors against the white background will complement walnut and i feel like it's the perfect balance between retro and modern. I don't want to be afraid of playful, bold colors and i feel this could ellicit just that much more joy when waking up or settling down for a rest.

this set reminds me of mills' graphics for the virgin suicides. it's more feminine than anything else i've narrowed my list down to and i'm certain we would only use the duvet cover. otherwise it goes from a pretty, slightly psychedelic floral kimono print to flowersflowerflowersflowers pretty quickly. and we're trying to keep the room balanced and modern not feminine and kitschy.

this was the first cover i actually found after 3 days of searching that i thought might work, but after finding the covers above, it feels a bit lackluster and busy for the general tone i'm searching for.

i mean, this isn't brain surgery but it's been about as difficult as writing a 3 page term paper on a book i've never read for a class i never go to. i don't know anything about design except what i've learned from watching bravo tv and reading magazines. so if anyone has helpful suggestions, i'm very open to suggestions, links and day shopping trips. (by anyone, i mean my girlfriends who happen to read the deer-tracks. sorry strangers.)

wake and bake.

2011-02-27T12:56:00.000-08:00

barring unforeseen circumstance, i typically wake up like a farmer on the weekends.
it begins to sound a bit pretentious when i wax energetically about how much i accomplish in my first waking hours.
but i digress...

without casting judgement on other lifestyles, waking up early routinely is one of the best habits i have acquired since i stopped going out. year after year i would castigate myself for staying out till dawn and proceeding to sleep the day away. it makes me cringe to think waking up at noon felt early.
since we're really focusing on transforming the house into a home, little by little, it feels only right that i might devote a little time to baking up sweet treats to share with greg and kenn and bring along to show gratitude for good hospitality.

last sunday i woke up before dawn and scoured the internets for the absolutely easiest, most decadent recipe i could find. cupcakes and cashmere did not disappoint, and i was able to find the perfect treat to dust off my Kitchenaid mixer for.

this chocolate dipped macaroon recipe is one of the simplest, most satisfying desserts i've ever attempted. anytime i want to tell people i care about them, this is what i'll make from now on. it's like a long, sweet hug or a thoughtfully written note. it's like sitting in the sunshine sharing sweaty glasses of cool iced tea or letting your best friend borrow your favorite record. just absolute, maximum sweetness to the extreme. i don't love you, i macaroon you.

then we all cleaned and worked around the house and i finally hung up a picture (lord only knows what i've been waiting for). my field mouse psychedelic tea party has been become one of my most prized possessions and it fits in with the family room's slight nod to beatles/george harrison/hare krishna which is so different from the rest of the rooms in the house. but if anything screams: sink into the couch and kick back for awhile it's the warm waft of curry simmering, the soft velveteen of the couch with a sweet little kitty snoring and sunlight pouring through the curtains.

tatami cat nap.

2011-02-25T13:55:00.000-08:00

alot has been happening but it all seems pretty mundane when i sit down to think about sharing it.

i've been a little sleep deprived. work is super (challenging, but super).

we've been making subtle improvements on the house; it finally feels like we're settling in. i've been doing yard work, tending to all the plants, vowing not to kill them all over again.

i've been gathering paint, window covering and duvet ideas which i get lost on the internets trying to gather ideas and inspiration. i've arrived at a conclusion that there ought to be a linen retailer that strikes the perfect balance between the mid century modern luxury influenced Jonathan Adler-esque textiles with something more simple, organic and refined. i would post an idea of what i'm looking for, but i haven't found it yet.

we went to watch sebadoh at the troubadour last night, i was really into the first 15 songs and then i literally fell asleep standing while leaning on greg's shoulder. 17 hours of being awake is my limit.

also i've been foresaking my analog roots for more synthpop. i'm not ready to make an official statement on the matter, but i dig solid jams and disaffected vocals... so it makes sense to me.

i wanted to go to the copper door...

2011-02-17T21:16:00.000-08:00

but i felt an overwhelming urge to stay home and snuggle with the kitten and a book.
the promise of french ale doesn't compare to the coziness of a warm down comforter these days.

bikram sweat and raindrops.

2011-02-16T10:37:00.000-08:00

I dragged myself out of bed after another night's wretched sleep: anxiety dreams about shoe merchandising, interludes of mojave struggling to breathe(long story) with cameos from frankie muniz and cast members of the jersey shore. These are times when I sigh and allow myself to accept that nothing is perfect. Rather than roll over and sleep off the rest the of the morning, I got up at Mojave's urging and got ready for an early morning hot yoga class.

Grey and rainy, I trudged through the sprinkles across downtown Fullerton and prepared for yogic perfection. However, I proceeded to struggle through the balancing poses, couldn't focus intently on one spot in the mirror and basically wobbled my way through to the end. I didn't sink into the floor deep in meditative repose, rather I brushed past this icing on the cake and quietly collected my things to leave. In hindsight it sounds like a failure. In retrospect, I feel super! I continued to pushed myself out of a stale routine and into a new pattern of challenging my body to work at feeling good.

No excuses: it's raining, I slept like crap, I close at work tonight, I might not have time to watch Glee while I get ready for work, etc...

My body needs the workout and my mind needs this time to balance and concentrate. In general, my life needs something I can dedicate myself to that promotes good health and well being. Sometimes I get so tangled up in work, housework, making plans I don't possess the energy for that I bypass basic elementary steps: move, sweat, breathe. The afterglow makes everything worthwhile.

hold me like a pillow.

2011-02-15T19:33:00.000-08:00

heart forward.

2011-02-11T08:12:00.000-08:00

Today's yoga class was sweat dripping, ass toning, life affirming goodness. The instructor pushed the intensity without comprising clarity or focus in our poses. After just one week into practicing again, I could feel increased confidence in holding and executing each pose and set.
The instructor repeated often: Head Up, Heart Forward and Focus!
I needed to hear this mantra, many times over again.
Sometimes I'm sad for the distance and time between certain friendships. However, in every circumstance change has always led to something better: we drift apart and we create room to grow... we drift back into each other and we have reasons to celebrate, or we choose to carry on our separate ways.
Grief also moves in a similar cycle, I learned this year. We allow ourselves time to grieve and reflect, and then we move forward from the sadness, drifting back now and again to connect with the memory of what we have lost.

In all this movement and evolution within ourselves and our relationships, what comes is indeed "better than what came before". Lou Reed, zen master/human soul intuit/psychedelic troubadour for reals.

like clean linen snapping in the breeze.

2011-02-09T09:31:00.000-08:00

+ went to hot yoga twice in the last five days. the sweat and afterglow has made me deliriously energetic and productive.
- cleaning up the wreckage of home construction, realizing a miracle wasn't going to eliminate it for me. why/how do construction workers drink so much darn beer? and why cant they throw their own cans away??? gross.
+ simplification. understanding it's all a process.
+ making portland's papa g's mashed potatoes w/ tofu yellow curry (think an Indian shepherd's pie)
- trying to bringing my sad plants back to life. vowing never to let winter derail devotion to my green, leafy friends again.
+ loving what i do and sharing that enthusiasm (it's contagious)
+ this sweet purring, fluffy kittycat Mojave curled on my lap!
+ Mighty Clouds EP from Saturday Looks Good To Me's Fred Thomas and Betty Marie Barnes. Keeping it real with a sixties vibe, clean arrangements and a teensy bit lo fi. Fred Thomas always manages to produce music effortlessly simple and sincere.

chrysalis

2011-02-06T21:58:00.000-08:00

all photos by Christopher Lee

Driving through the green hills and valleys that make up my commute, listening to animal collective for the first time in ages, I was distinctly reminded of my first true spring. The year I turned 26, I connected with an acquaintance who lived and worked in Yosemite Valley when social networking was still new enough to look at everyone's pictures and send friendly messages to people you didn't know too closely.

Chris's naturist photography work and his simple bohemian life resonated with me. I wanted to know all about him and his Yosemite family. I wanted to hear the brisk snowfall and the sound of trodden fallen leaves in his voice. I felt very lucky to know someone who lived so closely to the earth. Also for the first time in several years, I felt safe to let someone know me. I drove up one weekend all alone to experience a warm February weekend with my friend. I spent the days wandering alone while Chris worked and at night we socialized with other Yosemite dwellers; cinephiles, filmmakers, musicians and poets alike. In the warmth of their cabin homes we watched documentaries and discussed their merits and weighed out their impact between hazy breaths. Their's was the kind of collective that was inspiring and didactic but all for the sake of sharing, never condescending or gratuitous.

Today in particular, the green hills along with the animal collective soundtrack reminded me again of my first true spring. I often think about the photo of the leaves that look like two chrysalis set side by side against the sunlight. Randomly I'll remember the twig covered in ladybugs, which was so marvelous to me until I saw a ladybug hatching for myself. I'll think about the handful of almonds and carrots we ate with our peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. I'll recall the warm twang of his Louisiana dialect over long distant telephone calls. I'll recall the way I opened myself up to friendship after so many years of self imposed sadness. I'll recall the way I sought so many places to explore on my own, only regretting I didn't explore further than my home state.With each coming spring, these memories are reawakened in me as if to remind me to always live so potent and sure of the beauty of nature, friendship and personal growth. Friendships like this are rich and often fleeting, but indelible nonetheless.

brain cells to spare.

2011-02-03T21:20:00.000-08:00

there's not nearly enough kittens, crudites or activity.
i still haven't seen the Sofia Coppola film.
i'm scared of going to a new yoga place.

i did finish reading SMASHED a memoir about a girl who spent her college years abusing alcohol that my mom bought me a few years ago. er... distance makes the heart grow fonder? at least i was able to read it in solidarity, rather than seethe at the harmless insult.

i mean, i DID relate to her experience and how she walked away from a drinking culture, so i can't still be mad at mom for thinking i could use a little food for thought. the book brought up interesting points concerning how our collective obsession with drinking as a past time weakens women. partly because our bodies don't process alcohol like men do(but we consume alcohol like it doesn't matter), and partly because the mystique of alcohol is a fantasy designed to subjugate women below the status quo and perpetuate unease and unhappiness. this idea struck a chord of truth in me.

i don't know... it's weird now because i feel like my life revolves around being healthy and feeling good. it's hard to imagine a version of myself intent on pleasure and self destruction. because it's so hard to imagine, i'm rather obsessed the notion of what leads us astray from contentment.

on a different note, does the advent of "blogging" indicate that people are happier and less self destructive? or is blogging only a pathway into the purest, fashionable, culinary, craftiest souls? that can't possibly be true because i've read some ana blogs that terrify the bejeezus out of me, but you don't hear about those in any sort of mainstream context unless Style Rookie links a photo from one every now and then.

i'm sorry if this sounds like a maudlin episode of sex and the city set to a soundtrack of clove cigarettes, lavender epsom salts and the smiths. i'm really quite fine. (and i'm not smoking)

It takes approximately 7 days to get used to living alone.

2011-01-30T10:50:00.000-08:00

Business has taken my love abroad and I've been busy getting used to my new work assignment. I cried like a baby leaving South Coast on my last day, but everyone is so darn nice at my new store and finally having my own floor is such an accomplishment, there's no time for tears. Except my heart breaks a little when I walk through the mall and there's no Prada, MiuMiu, J Crew to make my heart pitter patter.

On a brighter note: Greg comes back from Korea today, so I can stop living like a bachelor. Eating burritos every night and reading in long bubble baths has been a means to an end, but it lacks variety and infinitely less snuggles (except from the kitty, Mojave).

stop making sense.

2011-01-26T06:57:00.000-08:00

The mossiest moss and the saaaaaaaaadest grey skies.

2011-01-24T10:56:00.000-08:00

We spent the weekend in Portland. Which isn't a terrific idea when you're getting over an upper respiratory infection. But it is a marvelous way to get a glimpse of a gorgeous old city, rich in architecture, bike friendly initiatives and local artisans. We drove all over the various parts and took in as much Stumptown coffee as we reasonably could. It was much more difficult to find great vegetarian eateries than I had imagined because Portlandians seem to love their local beef, foul, venison, etc. Aside from wandering around we took an early day trip to the coast and kept on driving up to Washington headed towards Mount Saint Helens until we were stopped by unplowed snow in the road.

This trip was drastically different from the time Mary and I played up in Portland in 2003. I'm pretty sure I had a constant stream of cigarettes, PBR(hipsters have been drinking PBR for ages) and a steady stream of heartache. I remember it being beautiful but I also recall feeling at home in its decay, and Portland became the city I would move to if I ever needed to escape. While there's no denying Portland is a marvelous city, I couldn't really imagine myself living there today. Greg kept singing that damn "the dream of the 90's is alive" from Portlandia because it seemed to fit how awestruck we were by the food cart movement, vegan delicatessens, painstakingly perfect coffee, public transportation, moss thriving over everything everywhere and fragments of Elliott Smith songs popping up along the way. Traveling with my best guy brings me so much joy, I cannot wait until our next excursion.

Sonnet ii, 29

2011-01-18T06:22:00.000-08:00

Silent friend of many distances, feel
how your breath enlarges all of space.
Let your presence ring out like a bell
into the night. What feeds upon your face

grows mighty from the nourishment thus offered.
Move through transformation, out and in.
What is the deepest loss that you have suffered?
If drinking is bitter, change yourself to wine.

In this immeasurable darkness, be the power
that rounds your senses in their magic ring,
the sense of their mysterious encounter.

And if the earthly no longer knows your name,
whisper to the silent earth: I'm flowing.
To the flashing water say: I am.

(trans MD Herter Norton)

go to bed with this verse whispering through your head, and a sound sleep is sure to follow.

and miles to go before i sleep.

2011-01-17T18:14:00.000-08:00

sometimes it works: the combined efforts of a seemingly perfected alchemy of health and contentment leads to a smile on your face and a spring in your step. other times the service is bad, the food is lackluster, your health is down the tubes, shitty things happen to amazing people, you realize your beloved tweed blazer is coffee stained and your favorite black pumps have a tear. it's times like these that i retreat into soft sounds, poet vibes and a lavender bath.

i wish i could say i've produced anything more significant than holding the pieces of myself together, but sometimes that's enough.

Portlandia: the dream of the 90's

2011-01-15T09:30:00.000-08:00

"Carrie Brownstein is an actress on a TV show?"
It makes sense in the context of Thunderant, and honestly, wasn't she captivating in Sleater-Kinney?
I'm sure this is some 1996 dream of mine come true.

I was going to try and write an intelligent commentary how Portlandia sheds a comedic light on the various subgroups that comprise Portland's iconic hipster community; subgroups seemingly formed out of our inherent need to befriend and belong. But I think this show really comes down to the fact that a friend of mine mentioned she has Carrie's velvet dress at the end of the video, and then I realized have the same plaid shirt from Urban two summers ago, which was also reissued by JCrew this past fall (it's sick I should know this). Are we part of a demographic, or are we in on the joke?

I'm going to try not to think about it too much and enjoy Portlandia and the giggles it elicits.

"I am grey, still on the page"

2011-01-14T11:51:00.000-08:00

I found out yesterday that Trish Keenan of Broadcast was ill, and hoped for the best. It seems an entire community of dreamers and artists have been similarly saddened and devastated. Personally, I think part of what made Trish so incredible was that the fuss over Broadcast wasn't solely about her, so much as this fully fleshed out, tripped out soundscape. But it was about Trish and how her lyrics tripped along like well crafted poetry, her harmonies were not to be rivaled and nobody made earnest post-modern psychedelic pop so effortlessly and perfectly.

Sometimes you miss people you've never met, simply because they changed your perspective and their work lends color and texture to your days and nights.

Rest in peace, Trish. Thank you for all the beautiful things.

a house is not a home.

2011-01-11T11:58:00.000-08:00

I've been terrible at kick starting this blog. I've been laid up with one bug or another pretty much since New Year's and consequently making up lost time at work. I think about what direction a blog should take, how posts should feel organic and perhaps inspire. I'm not really interested in creating any illusions of perfection or shopping wishlists, just the oldworkinprogress of striving to make life as fulfilling as possible. This currently means that we're working on making the house really ours; that each room should flow and elicit a specific energy. Not light rays and shakras, per se, but rather ideas like comfort, minimalism, and function. Our challenge is to transorm a very typical suburban house and create a comfortable modern living/working space with Asian and European influences. Personally, this has been an aesthetic challenge for me to varying degrees to make peace with my love of all things feminine/victorian and vintage kitsch. Which isn't so much about abandoning things I prefer, but finding meaningful ways of incorporating whimsical flourishes for balance and effect.

By nature, we're both lazy little pack rats teeming with the tools of our various passions and interests. Personally, I feel even overwhelmed by the amount of pure STUFF which bogs me down completely. I need clean slates and organization to get my creativity flowing not boxes and piles of THINGS i don't need. This need to purge and simplify even resulted in chopping off my hair for a cleaner, simpler look.

So for us it comes down to really simple concepts: out with the old and focus on simplifying and minimizing the new. Even more importantly, focusing our love and energy on building a home together as partners, not the dude who hates teacups and wrought iron furniture and the girl who can't even articulate her distaste for platform beds and sterile rooms. Somewhere in the middle is a guy who can see how a squirrel shaped lamp can add warmth and whimsy to a bedroom and a girl who has learned to appreciate clean modern lines. It becomes a dialogue and a conversation that sets the tone for the duration.

"...but a room is not a house and a house is not a home."

sing it luther.

2011 Photo List of Resolutions

2010-12-27T00:25:00.000-08:00

My friend Ty posted his photo list, and I thought it was pretty brill. I'd love to hear/see what others have in store for themselves.

Get back to doing yoga regularly. I'm not talk about no Eat Pray Love Sh*t. I'm talking about soul cleansing, ass toning, sweat dripping yoga. My first goal will be not to plan my grocery list during asanas.

Get back to going veg. We're so good about cooking fresh meals, but we can go even further into eating more raw, alive foods rather than comfort foods all the time. I want to expand our palettes and continue to strive to eat cruelty free.

Write Often. Daily. Several Times a day. Keep a moleskin on me again. Get down and dirty in my muddy thoughts and find some clarity.

Find inspiration by any means necessary. Watch, listen, look, feel.

Ride my bike, often and alone.

Spend more time with people I love. (and less time on the internets)

Bring my garden back to life.

Make time to travel more. AKA get a passport and kiss my boyfriend all over the world, especially in forests.

Go thrifting for vinyl. Expand my puny collection in a serious way. Stumble on some gems, and spend some time listening to warm analog sounds.

Decorate. Minimize. Decorate. Minimize. Rinse and repeat.

"je t'aime, je t'aime oh, oui je t'aime!" Work a little less, love a little more (with my very own record producer, no less!)

2010 was an exhausting year, a test in extremes and tackling things I really wasn't prepared for. People coming and going and going and going (missing my yiayia terribly) and I'm really ready to start planting some roots (figurative and literal). 2011 is for taking time to make time for all the things I really want to do, for living the ways I believe. And I'd also like to catch up on a little sleep.

Bonne Année! Be Wonderful!

two halves of a christmas whole.

2010-12-26T11:57:00.000-08:00

We came home from our mutual Christmas celebrations tired, hungry and resolved to have our own Christmas dinner at the house next year.

Somewhere along the way, my family mistook tradition for convenience. And I don't want to be mean, but we could probably cook a more filling, cruelty free feast for our loved ones without all the dementia and political bickering. (someone just got back from the republican national convention and couldn't keep his hateful agenda to himself). I mean I don't really have grandparents and aunts and uncles nearby, so what are we compromising our time and sanity for?

We spent the drive home dreaming up a vegetarian feast of roasted winter vegetables and the soft amber glow of our loved ones gathered in our new home. It was a lovely idea that I hope we commit to.

It wasn't until after I washed away the day in a lavender bubble bath, slid into my new lace edged nightgown, and crawled in bed to the sound of of rain outside did I feel my sense of happiness restored and replenished.

I'm very grateful that we both have loving parents and siblings, it's just all the noise and complacency I can live without.

atrocious punctuation.

2010-12-23T01:02:00.000-08:00

He lays in bed, asleep, the sound of his breaths quiet and steady. My hand reaches for the glass of brandy, hoping that strong sweet amber will help my eyelids grow heavy with sleep myself. Across the room, a fragmented reflection is cast by the glow of the imac screen as if to illuminate the point: I ought to be sleeping.

I feel inferior sometimes, because in this relationship my talent doesn't shine, there isn't so much merit to what I do. We are surrounded by greater musicians and more talented songwriters. From time to time I mention out loud, that I wish he believed I was capable of making great things; one of the comforting aspects of being alone, feeling singular in my pursuits.

It's not bad now, just different. And that part hurts a little bit. It hurts a little harder than being alone. In being alone, you become surrounded more easily by questions and longings... there's more space to hear things of that sort. Being with someone I hear constantly what is reflected and projected. There were lots of other reasons I stopped writing(not because anyone made me), mainly lack of time. Now, I'm just fighting to regain my momentum and thought process. I'm trying to relearn how to exist passionately in peace; take all the vitriol and spit of my youth filtered through the austere consistency of my present state and I know there are thoughts in there worth exploring and sharing.

Like I said before, it's not bad: I just don't know how this part goes. This terrain is uncharted and unfamiliar and I'm having a go, trying to figure it out.

the old switcheroo: a gray negative dream.

2010-12-22T10:25:00.000-08:00

I've been considering switching back to deer-tracks for some time now.
It just makes sense to write outside of any katie the pest context. I'm not sure if I'll delete that blog quite yet, but it's time for something new.
That time has come and gone, how many times too many.

Derrida writes: only true absence... can inspire... can work, and then make one work. (Force and Signification, p8)

At the very least, I desire an outlet- a means of expressing, connecting and sharing.
In my daydreams I am plotting grander schemes, to take my psyche by the reins and produce something at once joyful and thought provoking. I am petrified by the prospect of channeling and prodding own inspiration. I am even more terrified of announcing such nonsense.

So, let's lay down the snow like a gray, negative dream and start like it's the beginning.

Today is the Day.

2010-12-21T11:28:00.000-08:00

I don't know what I believe in anymore.
I believe in what happens, and consequences, and kittens, and stuff like that.

Sometimes things get too sad. Sometimes we get in our own way. Sometimes we allow ourselves to get distracted by sadness.

Christmas 2004 was a hard year. Relentless rain led to a fatal car crash of a work friend. Which was sad because he was young, and even though I gave him a hard time I knew he was a good kid and he would grow up to be a kick ass man.

On Christman Day, a devastating mudslide tore through my childhood summer camp killing 14 people including the caretaker's family whom I had befriended over the years.

To top it all off, my life was off course and I flailed about miserably hoping for a miracle; something that would wake me up from my lovesick fog.

On Christmas Eve, I stayed awake all night reading Perks of Being A Wallflower, listening to Yo La Tengo's Today is The Day EP and writing about floods, landslides and all the good things I knew were possible. When I awoke to news about the mudslide, I considered the writings a prophesy. My life was in such turmoil, I could feel everything around me, acutely. I could metaphysically feel the ground caving in and shifting.

(This is not a phenomenon I expect others to understand. There are a few sensitive souls I know who will find this perception unsurprising.)

The miraculous part about all of this sadness and shifting around me, was that I woke up and I saw that life was waiting for me. My family loved me deeply, the world was willing to give me another chance to do right: I could, in fact, be a good person and accomplish things I set out to do.

A years long process ensued to recover everything I'd lost.

I guess my point is, sometimes devastation leads to new growth. Today could be day, you think outside of yourself and overcome your obstacles. Today could be the day, you regard the happiness of others above your own. Like Georgia sings: "Today is the day, I think of you."

all the colors.

2009-04-08T10:11:00.000-07:00

miss maltzy and i had our first out of town shopping trip down to costa mesa yesterday. i probably spent more than i usually spend on myself in one go, but some of the things were things i need: like new American Apparel yoga pants for sleeping in. and skinny jeans for the spring/summer from urban (only 19 bucks!).a new high waisted skirt from h&m in a yummy teal.

honestly, my brain still isn't ready to process how i will wear all these things. but i'm going to be patient. maltzy has such a creative wonderful eye for good deals & necessities and i've grown kind of stubborn about what shapes and colors look good on me. in the end, i have to be realistic about what i will actually wear before i buy something (i hate returns...)
sadly, our shopping went later than we planned in order to get back to long beach for the greater california in-store at fingerprints to celebrate their new record, all the colors. perhaps someday,the gods of harmony and farfisas will forgive us...

we decided to stay home and make dinner since we arrived back in town a little late.
we opted for two kinds of trader joe's ravioli(pesto portobello & artichoke)
a nice arrabiata sauce.
steamed asparagus.
french bread breadsticks.(parbaked)
novella cabernet savignon.
lava cake. (for dessert!)

it was a delicious, simple meal. the girls decided to eat the ravioli in a "duet".
one serving with just olive oil and parm, another serving with sauce. i was just all about eating a yummy dinner in good company. and we all felt sleepy and satisfied with our days. which is how all good days should end.

the world is soft as lace.

2009-04-04T21:56:00.000-07:00

the approach of spring has led to more late night bike ride sojourns around town.
lucky for me, an old acquaintance is actually a neighbor and fast becoming a good friend, and bike companion.
most recently, he completely grabbed my attention with this single from denim after kinski finished their set at the prospector- dance party ensued!
and just when i thought i was all pooped out from work and school and life, fando y lis and aforementioned neighbor/friend hits and mrs lured me out of the house yet again for first friday at the pike(not to be confused with a friday kind of monday)
good records, great friends, pike fries and moonlight bike rides home.
well that's the stuff of denim and felt, if i do say so...

by the moon of a silvery lake.

2009-03-25T10:02:00.001-07:00

i've always held camera obscura at arm's length.
of course, that is when i'm not traipsing eagerly across the dancefloor to lloyd i'm ready to be heartbroken.
this video for the single, french navy makes me want to die.
i want to run all over europe with you. i want to fall asleep in the blonde parts of your beard.
i want to stand against the greyblue of the ocean in your dreams, held by you.
the way you say we fit so well together.

michael said you would only disappoint me.
but the distance only makes me go "oooh..."

a very hungry caterpillar

2009-03-23T22:39:00.000-07:00

i went to watch The Reader with my folks the other day, and was treated to a trip to the book store afterward. my mother and i are both delighting in our newly forged shared love of reading and passion for books. since she's highly regarded and recognized in the local school community, it's quite a treat to hear what she has to say about choosing quality books for the classroom and making connections with young readers.

it would have been very easy to dismiss The Very Hungry Caterpillar as a book for babies until she mentioned the Newsweek article celebrating the book's 40th anniversary and it's influence and significance in popular children's literature.

Carle reveals his dark childhood memories in WWII germany, and instantly one can make the connection between the hunger he felt as a boy, and the voracious appetite of the little caterpillar.

it is not uncommon to find that the histories behind the books we adored growing up are often just as fascinating as the books themselves. when we can understand the context in which a text was written, we learn about the past and how the past connects to the present.
in my classes i am discovering the more connections we can make in our reading, the more meaningful the learning experience is for the teacher and student. the reading becomes more than just a book about a bug, it is now a parallel to a victim of war. it is the wistful longing of a child who goes to bed hungry and dreams of a better life. it is the exploration of a visionary artist with a unique and distinct style.

the author himself states: "It is a book about hope. If you're an insignificant caterpillar, you can grow up to be a big butterfly in the world."

where the wild things are.

2009-03-17T12:30:00.000-07:00

All Things Considered NPR June 2005 interview with Maurice Sendak.

midnight movies.

2009-03-15T23:19:00.000-07:00

the cabinet of dr caligari
live score performed by SOON & SMGSAP
all photos by carloff

we started off the evening with dinner at Benley's.
k, v and i shared a round of starters:
pork& shrimp spring rolls with fresh mint
braised beef riblets & avocado puree
chicken cabbage salad

my entree was decent. but i would have fared just as well with a starter and a salad.
the cassava cake and panna cotta desserts were to die for.
but the piece le resistance was the complimentary churros and pan dulce dipping sauce v's boss at the lbma sent over to our table.

the performance was exciting, but i think we all missed the intimacy of practicing at {open}.
this is the second project i've worked on with shea, and he's such a joyful collaborator!
the part i love most about playing with SOON is valdas's enthusiasm and how organic the process is. sometimes, i need a little freedom from pop songs.

how german expressionism can help you make friends & influence people!

2009-03-11T23:10:00.000-07:00

SOON ((the band not the adverb taken by david thornton))

written about here.
in the District.

playing here.

personally, i think is a fantastic film and it's easy to understand why it's such an influential cinematic work. the style is uh-mazing! the sets, the wild designs... ver inspirational.

so come out! come out! leave your prepositions at home, bits.

Scandalabra!

2009-02-15T20:31:00.000-08:00

I am an unsentimental silent opponent of valentine's day. However, I am a proponent of lives well lived and time well spent. This year, I made a plan to have no plans until I heard about the Derrick Brown book release at the Art Theatre at midnight. Valdas was playing with Glock-Und-Spiel, so i was sure to be in the company of a few dear friends/valentines, if you will.

The event lasted until near 4am. Music by Deaf+Sexy was amusing, however, not my cup of tea. Jay Buchanan had my heart at the first pluck of his dollsamer. And his arrangements with minimal drums, stand up bass and unamplified harmonies was the perfect way to spend the midnight hours.

Emcee/Poet Mindy Netifee, who i was previously stranger to, completely sideswiped me with what, at first, seemed like polite introductions and then unfolded into a series of her own pieces. I should preface, for as much as I write, I rarely seek out the work of my peers. Stumbling upon someone whose work i can make a connection with is infinitely more rewarding.

Derrick Brown has been a local fixture I've managed not to follow for some time.
Even though we share close mutual friends, there's been no interaction and I've kept a distance from his writing. Maybe I'm intimidated and jealous in equal parts. All that aside, I was a bit mesmerized by his writing and performance. It's difficult for for me to criticize his writing because much of it is of such a raw, potent nature.

Who am I to criticize the hostile imagery in his poems? Really, can a poet's audience actually demand the poet find a way to separate the sadist from the masochist? Or the other way around? And i don't really enjoy examining everything with constant criticism. Sometimes I just want to sit back and get sucked in.
One of Brown's talents is how he glides from verse to awareness of his audience as if it were as easy as lighting a match and tossing it behind him.
I found that fascinating. Who can dig deep into their scars and then laugh about them and move right along to the next one? His backing band, the navy gravy, were a perfect accompaniment to the lateness of the hour and the way Brown's poems pin the viewer to the wall and quietly caress the places within ourselves we try so hard to keep hidden. Worth noting, Derrick Brown seems a bit obsessed with my roomate. Which makes me wonder if he talks about Joe when he's performing in other parts of the world... I have a suspicion he does.

The night was probably an hour and a half longer than it should have been. Which made me a bit antsy and ready for bed after a night of midnight movie theatre revelrie, which is probably why felt a bit punchier than usual. However, it was the way Derrick Brown wanted to let the art theatre audience into his life for a few early morning hours. And I truly do believe the man can be as genuinely entertained by tongue-in-cheek-electro-clash-rollerskate-prog-rock as he is by feminist prose and even his own rare blend of music, verse and humanism. I believe this because he said so as he signed the copy of Scandalabra that he performed with. What prolific tidbit did he insribe into my newly purchased text? He hoped the poems helped make frenching Joe easier.

yep. it was like that. and i'd do it all over again.

Handmade With Love

2009-02-03T22:39:00.000-08:00

there are many reasons i love living in long beach.
C. Salt Gourmet Chocolates is one of them.

at many a dinner party or after hours record listening sesh at Rod & Court's, my friends and i can be found hovering over a jar of Courtney's delicious pistachio cherry chocolate with sea salt and caramel or pine nut pistachio brittle with sea salt and vanilla.

Courtney's chocolate is "made with love by hand using only the best ingredients this world has to offer" (csaltgourmet.com)

last year, C. Salt Gourmet was awarded best homemade chocolate by the OC Weekly. also Courtney just got a lovely mention in the newly redesigned Long Beach Magazine!

in addition to being an absolutely beautiful, thoughtful, hardworking person. Courtney is always astounding me with her reading fare. whether she's studying the death of agrarian farming, buried in short stories, or waxing poetic about Charlotte's Web, it's easy to see how the beauty just flows out of who she is and into what she does.

one taste of C. Salt Gourmet Chocolate handmade with love by Courtney will say i love you!/ or i like you a whole lot! to your friends and loved ones better than any old box of See's or Russell Stover's. locally you can find Courtney's chocolates at Mother's Markets, Fingerprints on 2nd St or Gypsy Den Costa Mesa.

support lovely local goodness that really does make the world a better place!

a veritable feast and the love i don't deserve.

2009-02-02T07:25:00.000-08:00

i flail sometimes. unintentionally, as it would appear. without a clear plan to guide me through a day, it's quite possible i might waste every minute on sorrows and sunlight. i miss you and you and you, but as quickly as the words leave my mouth, the thought passes blindly, and it's done.
the details are worth sparing.
the sun was getting ready to leave the sky after an afternoon of analog defeat so we commenced to playing a serious game of phone tag. miss maltzy pulled me out into the world to drink tea on 4th st and ride our bikes home through carroll park during twilight. we focused on making dinner, something light and yummy.

a collective effort, worth every penny. we produced a veritable drool worthy feast (( sans photos ))

ensalate: vegan yummy salad from handstil(( i don't know what else to call it))
field greens, cucumber, avocados, hot house tomato, olive oil, lemon juice, garlic, pieces of bagutte tossed in, salt & pepper to taste.
i also like this salad with hummus tossed in, but i forgot to bring it with us.

chicken baked & sauteed:
valdas's specialty. olive oil, garlic, salt & pepper, white wine. after sautee, set in the oven to bake.

pancetta grape tomato pasta:
kristina found this one from rachel ray i believe. we weren't expecting pasta this evening, but this dish is very flavorful & yummy.

lava cake with sliced bananas & vanilla honey bee ice cream:
we originally planned to serve the ice cream & bananas with biscuits and nutella, but the lava cakes were a perfect surprise.

valdas was playing records at continental room, so we went there. dancing was fun and the fullerton kids were very friendly and sweet. we were home pretty early, but i woke up with the sun, for no reason at all.

Wall of Sound.

2009-01-29T09:52:00.000-08:00

Tsukimi Moon.

2009-01-27T22:56:00.000-08:00

today i saw this dress from built by wendy on design is mine.
i fell in love.

when i went to buy this darling little winter piece, it was gone gone gone.
i felt so defeated. so i'm going to keep hunting around, i guess...

then i was trying to find this track by alain bashung Animal, On Est Mal that our friend David Donahue put on a cd of french pop songs.
but that search has been similarly fruitless.

what i did learn today was how to make udon soup.
the other day i started craving it very badly, but couldn't think of a good japanese noodle house in long beach to find some. i suppose any one of the sushi restaurants may have udon on the menu, but i think it's also more fulfilling to learn how to make a dish on my own.

I found this site, japan-guide.com, to get a grasp on the different udon variations.
the Kitsune sounds delicious, but it's too late to start marinating and baking tofu for the Atsuage. ((Kitsune means fox. according to japanese folk lore, foxes love fried tofu! ))
it's also too late to fry up tempura or to find Naruto ((fish sausage)) for the Tanuke Udon. (( Tanuke means raccoon. does that mean raccoons like pink fish sausage and tempura cracklings?))
so i opted for the Tsukimi udon with hardboiled egg instead of raw poached eggs to symbolize the moon.
Tsukimi alludes to a tradition of harvest moon viewing. where it is customary to bring rice sweets to offer the moon in hopes of a bountiful rice crop. young children are told a rabbit lives in the moon and makes rice dumplings with a hammer!

i boiled the udon noodles according to the directions on the package.
and in a separate pot hard boiled two eggs.
rinsed the udon in cold water and filled the pot with fresh water. which may have been an unnecessary step but i couldn't find a clear direction otherwise.
i tossed in chopped green onions, the eggs, noodles and memmi noodle base to taste.
let it simmer.
and then served it up with plenty leftover for lunch tomorrow!

all was not lost, and now i will fall asleep to hopefully dream about a little rabbit making rice sweets in the moon tonight. with any luck i'll also dream about finding the edelweiss shift dress from built by wendy too!

My Cup of Tea.

2009-01-24T07:27:00.000-08:00

My mind is a bit blown by the troggs, lately. Nothing like a slow drag across the dancefloor.

British garage appears to be the perfect companion to this morning's cup of tea. This time around, I'm drinking Yorkshire by Taylor's of Harrogate. With a splash of soymilk and a bit of honey, it's worth the extra dollar or two at the store. PG Tips is another great black tea popular with british high tea. Both are worth a try. I prefer them in the mornings, as I'm rarely around for high tea.

It's time to start investing in some vinyl. Miss Maltz and I have some really great aspirations for a dance night. Between the two of us, our wonderful friends and my experience with putting on shows/djs/etc... it shouldn't be too hard to get one going, except between the two of us we have. no. vinyl. So it's time to stock up and start moving and shaking. Tho, i'm inclined to tell people to stay home, catch up on reading and get some sleep... i also can't resist a good dance party. It seems like alot of the nights around town have either grown too popular for their venues to get in a proper dance sesh or they're just not playing the songs that get our feet moving...

babababa bababaaaa...

Orfeu Negro.

2009-01-18T21:17:00.000-08:00

i first watched this brazilian 1959 film by Marcel Camus on a trip to Yosemite Valley. i was visiting my friend who takes amazing photographs and has impeccable taste in cinema. if i was smart, i'd listen to more of his suggestions on a regular basis.

this is such a vibrant film- the colors, the samba, the language, the people- all wrapped around the greek myth of Orpheus and Eurydice and their love story.

sadly, i've found not alot of people can really dig into the chaos of the film. but this last scene in the movie really is one of the best cinematic payoffs, Ever. the final scene is so charming and winsome, one can really get a taste of the catharsis Orfeu Negro stands to offer without really giving anything away.

and there really isn't enough catharsis in film these days. whereas happy endings are a cheap thrill, catharses offer an opportunity to grieve, purge and grow emotionally.

Wild Tigers I Have Known

2009-01-14T12:18:00.000-08:00

+ ginger root tea with fresh lemon
+ emily jane white filmed by cam archer

+ fresh rosebud sheets on the bed
+one burning vanilla candle
+ one open window with a sleepy catbus and birdchirps

= a perfect afternoon

two ways out.

2009-01-12T17:42:00.000-08:00

darker my love.
exciting things happen.

blackberry winter

2009-01-11T09:26:00.000-08:00

my fascination with blackberries began a few years back
when i started daydreaming about spending springs along the Puget Sound.
i found ways to use the berried fruit in my writing and my cooking
which proved inspirational, but fickle- as they tend to spoil so quickly.

some favorite uses:
*vegan blackberry cobbler.
*berry medley with fresh clotted cream for high tea.
*tossed in with some granola & yogurt for a light meal.
*boiled down with strawberries, sugar and orange juice for a french toast berry compote.
*blackberry preserves on pbj & breakfast waffles.

clearly i'm a fan of the color, texture, flavor and the overall joy this fruit elicits in me and others.

my friend kristina ((milkithoney.blogspot.com)) is a phenomenal hostess. whether she's throwing a cozy get together among friends or just a dinner for two, she is an excellent source and collaborator for elegant, delicious, resourceful ideas.
to show my gratitude when she invites me over to dinner i usually offer to bring dessert, and because i'm often in a time constraint, planning something that requires any preparation is unrealistic. though i do bake, i do i do!

luckily, we're pretty content with some yummy ice cream and a topping like peaches, strawberries, granola. just something sweet to hit the tastebuds after a great meal. i happened to stumble upon organic blackberry ice cream at whole foods one day, and thought it might be good paired with brownie bites.

we prefer to pop the brownie bites in the microwave just until they're gooey and warm and scoop the blackberry ice cream over the bites. you can either set the brownies up on one big plate and set out spoons for everyone to dig in, or serve it up in individual bowls.

good is an understatement... drool worthy, jaw dropping, mind blowing....etc.
the colors compliment each other beautifully and the flavors of the brownies and ice cream are dreamworthy. it's simple, delicious and great for sharing.

i intended to take pictures of the blackberry debauchery from last night's gathering, but it was gone almost as soon as it was served.

rattled by the rush.

2009-01-09T08:35:00.000-08:00

The Real Price of Gold.

Kronotsky Nature Reserve

it was a rare evening that i left work with nothing to do.
no practice.
no shows.
no social obligations.
no homework.

So i did what any normal person who knows how to enjoy their leisure time does, i went to the store and bought groceries for dinner. i came home and changed the burnt out light bulbs, fed the cats, and made dinner : linguine with grape tomatoes, prosciutto and peas. had dessert : warm french bread with nutella.
i turned on the stereo and sat on the couch with the latest issue of National Geographic.

Now sometimes reading about faraway places, glaciers melting, animals extincting hurts my brain a little, so i was already a little lightheaded from the read.
Then the house started shaking and the cats all looked up like, what the...?"
so i got up and stood in the doorway, despite knowing full well any quake of sizable force will likely level our little treehouse.

After a few minutes of heart flutters and no noticeable aftershocks, i settled down to read again. ((it's been too long of a week to lose my relaxing night in to a force of nature)) i don't wear jewelry as it is, and while i understand the aesthetic allure, i don't really have the time or money to lust after precious metals & jewels provided by a mining industry that seems pretty shady and destructive. i'm mostly just left confused.
if mining is so harmful ((it basically devastates the landscape)) why doesn't that upset more people into taking that into consideration? it's just as simple as not wearing gold.

how long did it take the earth's gold to form? thousands of years, millions of years, billions of years? and now they're hollowing out extinct volcanoes for specks of gold dust that the people who work the mine never even see?

genius.

Fever Monument.

2009-01-08T07:28:00.000-08:00

ashley ording

i had been an admirer of miss ording's photography for a few years before i got a chance to actually visit the Chapel of the Chimes. she's since taken down her photography, which i'm crossing my fingers she'll reconsider. i love her colors, her tableaus, her locations, her characters. i think there's a rare lovelieness to her staged photographs that really captures a story well.

my first morning in Oakland, i spent wandering the hills of the Piedmont Cemetery. upon approaching the gates, i recognized the first photograph. the second day we took a trip to the john muir coastal redwoods. on my last morning, i walked back to the Chapel of the Chimes where these photos were taken.

the huge sprawling crematorium can take hours and hours wandering through to get a sense of the lives that now fill it's halls and walls. i think i started crying just from the overpowering sense of mortality that's bound to take over after spending that much time around ashes that were once people full of life. the cemetery didn't have the same effect because it was so sunny and covered in wildflowers.

later i took a walk to the Piedmont Rose Garden, which was less morbid but just as stunning.

2009-01-07T23:19:00.000-08:00

this atlas sound dovers jam is genius.
i'm as obsessed with b. cox's version as i am with the original song by The Dovers he samples. to be honest, i didn't LOVE atlas sound when joe and i went to see him at the detroit in costa mesa back in september. we couldn't see the performance and it felt like a glorified record listening party until i heard this dovers jam.
then it was love.

((sigh))

Dear You.

2009-01-07T19:36:00.000-08:00

photo by ira gusakova, russia

yosemite valley is one of my favorite places in the world thus far. the first time someone took me there, we arrived after midnight and scurried quickly through the nighttime chill to our curry village wob (cabin without bath). other than the scent of pine and redwoods, i didn't really know where i was or what it looked like. i woke up in the morning and walked outside greeted by a giant wall of rock.

stunning, doesn't even begin to describe one's first view of the valley.

in yosemite, at any time of day it is not uncommon to stumble upon deer emerging from the woods into the meadows looking for food. all the tourists stop at once, to ooh and sigh over the moment while clicking away with their cameras. as mostly urban & suburban dwellers, we gather in a moment of solidarity to acknowledge and capture our collective enthusiasm over such a mundane moment in the lives of these creatures.

when trying to collect my thoughts and interests into one succinct forum, the common theme is my awe and enthusiasm over the people and things that surround me.
as an artist, i draw inspiration from many sources and mediums.
as a person, i'm constantly searching for ways to live the most meaningful life i can.

i should also refer readers to a poem by richard brautigan of the same name.
deer tracks is tender, filthy and frank. i find brautigan's honesty and starkly vivid imagery worthy of a collective sigh.

((sigh.))